


Back in Black -- Tony Stark

by StellaLuna365



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, He is a swollen plum, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, I'm bad at formatting, I'm very sorry, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Thanos is the Worst, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24096844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellaLuna365/pseuds/StellaLuna365
Summary: Back in Black, a Peter-centric Infinity War fix-it, from Tony Stark's perspective, exploring his emotions as he realizes that Peter means a hell of a lot more to him than anyone originally thought. Too bad it takes him almost dying to figure it out.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & James "Rhodey" Rhodes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Back in Black -- Tony Stark

So…this was happening.

I couldn’t say I hadn’t expected it, but seriously. Didn’t aliens have hobbies? Why did they all seem to have _so much fun_ attacking Earth? It really wasn’t that glamorous.

“Kid, you doing alright?” I asked Spider-ling as I shot a repulsor blast at Thanos. It fizzled out harmlessly against his thick skin. _Dammit, can_ anything _hurt him_?

I hadn’t really wanted to bring the kid in the first place. He was doing well, picking off aliens a few at a time, keeping them mostly off our backs as I and the other Avengers (and the Guardians of the Galaxy…they were interesting) attacked Thanos, but the thought of him in constant danger wasn’t great for my attention span, even if I was a brilliant multi-tasker.

“I’m good!” The kid shouted into the com, followed by a grunt as he hit another alien. I breathed a small sigh of relief, glancing at the red and blue blur. He was holding his own.

I focused back on Thanos, the alien roaring as Sam divebombed it. It didn’t hurt him, but he was getting annoyed.

“Guys, this isn’t working,” Natasha muttered. “We need something else. We’re just wearing ourselves out.”

“Any ideas, Nat?” Clint asked, firing off another arrow, deflected yet again by the Infinity Stones’ protective barrier. “Cause I got nothing. I’m actually having a vivid flashback to Budapest.”

“F***ing eggplant,” I shouted, charging my repulsor blasts up to maximum energy. “Just—f***ing— _die!_ ” I shouted, each word punctuated with another repulsor blast.

Of course, the blast did absolutely nothing. The force of it made him sway a little, but it was almost like a toddler trying to push Steve over. Like I was being _humored_.

“Tony, calm down,” Steve said, but he didn’t sound so patient himself.

“Trying, Capsicle,” I bit out.

FRIDAY alerted me to a small EMP blast to my left, but with a quick glance, I determined it was just the kid using one of his special webs. Geez, the kid was stubborn about using _Instant Kill Mode_. I put it there for a reason, dammit.

Thanos suddenly took a swipe at me, reaching up and locking a huge hand around one of my boots. “ _Shit_!” I screamed, completely unaware that he’d been gunning for me. I put everything I had into the thrusters, but nothing could shake his hold. Thanos grinned and started squeezing. It didn’t hurt yet, but I could feel the metal around my foot bending, and pressure wasn’t exactly comfortable.

“Tony!” Steve shouted, throwing his shield like a discus, hitting Thanos’ hand before he could crush my foot. It startled Thanos enough that his grip loosened, and I pulled the partially mangled boot out of his hand, rocketing a bit away to assess the damage.

It wasn’t bad. The repulsor was fizzling a little, but I could still fly as long as I made sure to direct more energy to the damaged boot and compensate for the uneven equilibrium while flying.

Just then, a red and blue blur caught my vision, and I swiveled my head around to focus on it. Spider-kid was running a _marathon_. He was sprinting through the aliens, so fast nothing could touch him. That wasn’t like Peter. He was desperate to prove himself; he wouldn’t just flee like that. Despite the logical sense that made, my patience was running out and I bit into the com, “ _Kid_! If you’re running away, I swear to _God_ —”

“I have an idea! Just—Mr. Stark, _trust me_!” He shouted through the com, never slowing down. I was too distracted by Thanos’ giant fists to respond immediately, but I was confused and a little pissed off. I didn’t understand what the hell kind of idea he could have now, but I knew it couldn’t be good. I heard him shout at FRIDAY for access to the Quinjet.

I looked over and my heart leapt into my throat seeing the aliens piling up around the now-closed door, breathing in relief when I realized Peter was safe inside.

“Kid, what are you _doing_?” Clint asked angrily, shooting incredulous glances at the Quinjet in between firing at the aliens threatening to overwhelm us.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter shouted into the coms. I stopped circling Thanos and got out of his range, firing an electrified repulsor. Nope, still nothing. “Does this have a sound button or something? Like a high-pitch frequency, interference, anything? _Sirens_?”

Those questions were so unexpected I was almost too stunned to dodge the fist Thanos sent my way. I saw Rhodey slam into him from behind, darting away before Thanos could catch him. “What the— _no_ , Peter!” I yelled, finally fed up with this. I had on idea what he was trying to do, and it was ticking me off _royally_. “Why the _hell_ would I insert _sounds effects_ in a high-tech piece of equipment?”

I made a mental note to insert sound effects if we survived this, because now I wanted them.

“Mr. Stark! It has speakers, though, right?”

“Yes, of _course_ it has speakers!” I growled, resisting the urge to fly to the Quinjet and throttle him. I was fond of the kid, but _God_ , he couldn’t have picked a worse time to do this.

“What’s the loudest song on your playlist?” Peter asked, sounding frantic. I spared a glance toward the jet and saw that the aliens were trying to force their way inside. I wanted so badly to fly over and kill every single one of them, but I couldn’t get away.

Then I realized what Peter had said, and _that_ question was so unexpected I almost laughed.

“ _What_?” Sam yelled, sounding almost as fed up as I was. “You seriously want to play _background music_ as we _fight off a hoard of aliens_?” Thanos batted a hand at him, but he swerved away gracefully.

I sighed in frustration. I’d really thought the kid was better than this. “Kid, just—” I was going to tell him to hunker down and wait for us to finish. If we finished.

“Mr. Stark, no disrespect, but _shut up and listen to me_! What the _hell_ is the loudest song on your playlist?”

I literally slammed to a stop in the air. That was how much that stunned me. That kid was the _epitome_ of a doe-eyed puppy, begging for approval and attention, literally the most polite and well-mannered child on Earth. He would… _never_ say something like that, to anyone, unless it was serious. The com was silent, and I could tell from their expression that the other Avengers were just as shocked as I was.

I was so shocked, in fact, that I actually answered him with the first loud song that came to mind. “Uh…it’s probably ‘Back in Black,’ by ACDC.” I said reflexively, then thought to ask _why_ he needed that so badly. “Kid, what—”

“ _Thank_ you!” He interrupted, and not two seconds later, the introduction of ‘Back in Black’ was thrumming through the field, so loud it actually hurt a little, and I asked FRIDAY to tone down the sensors.

Suddenly, the thousands of aliens surrounding us stopped what they were doing, falling to the ground and writhing, their weapons forgotten. I was too shocked to react for a second, then I started shooting like crazy, taking them down one by one.

“Holy—good God, it’s _working_!” Steve shouted, slamming his shield into one of the upright aliens. His voice was drenched in shock. The other Avengers went around killing the strays, leaving Thanos to Scott, Clint, and the Guardians while we finished off the army. Pretty soon, they were all dead, courtesy of Thor.

Someone cheered into the com, and pretty soon, everyone joined in. There was still Thanos, but at least the surrounding countries were safe.

I remembered the one who’d single-handedly taken down the alien army, and grinned, even though he couldn’t see. “Kid, you’re a _genius_ ,” I said, ignoring Thanos’ tantrum even as I fired at him. “How’d you know that would _work_?”

“Uh…don’t kill me,” the kid mumbled as I fired up another repulsor. He sounded exhausted, but that wasn’t exactly unexpected. His adrenaline was probably crashing. “Um…they didn’t like the EMP web I shot. It killed a whole bunch of them. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but I remembered that old movie…uh…the one where the aliens’ heads exploded when they heard the grandma’s music, or something.”

And good Lord, I have never loved that kid more than I did in that moment, because…well, who _wouldn’t_ love him after hearing something like _that_?

“Oh, my God,” Natashalie huffed into the com, and I could here the laugh in her voice, and I was tempted to join her. She shot Eggplant in the eye, and he snarled at her, his lip curling, but he didn’t seem particularly frazzled, which just pissed me off. “He’s talking about _Mars Attacks_. He literally just saved this continent based on a _science-fiction movie_.”

That’s it. The kid’s allowance was getting doubled. No, tripled.

“Kid,” Rhodey said as he circled Thanos, looking for a weak spot. “You’re my new favorite person.”

Peter huffed a laugh into the com. There was a rustling sound on Peter’s end, but I was too distracted firing at Giant Purple People-Eater over here to pay it much mind.

Peter’s next words would haunt me for years.

“Uh…M-Mr. Stark,” he stammered, and I could hear his voice shaking, hear the pain and fear and exhaustion and terror that coated it even as he spoke. My insides froze. “Uh…I th-think…I might be, uh…b-bleeding out just a little.”

Oh, God.

“Wait, what?” I asked, stopping dead in my flight path and zooming my helmet camera in on Peter, who was sitting folded over on himself, propped against the side of the Quinjet. Every drop of blood in my body drained straight to my feet. “Oh, _shit_ , Peter!”

I don’t think I’ve ever flown so fast. Not even when Pepper was in danger. I made it across the field in record time, not even waiting for the boots of my suit to touch the ground before I ordered FRIDAY to open it around me. I more or less jumped out of the floating suit, falling on my knees beside the kid. He sat there in a puddle of his own blood, hands weakly clenching his side, blood pumping through his fingers. It was all I could do not to throw up, my stomach turned so violently.

He lazily turned his head to look at me, the white lenses of his mask reflecting my worried face. “Peter, look at me, kiddo. Focus on me, okay?” I tried to keep the shake in my voice under control, but it was loud in my thundering ears.

Gently, I eased the mask off of his face, tossing it away as I took in Peter’s _absolutely sheet-white face._ There were dark circles under his eyes, accented by his pallor. “Shit, you’re pale,” I muttered, almost to myself, before gently grabbing his shoulders and laying him down on the grass. “You’re okay, kid.” Hell, even I didn’t believe that. His eyes were drawn together in pain, his lips tightly sealed. I felt physically sick watching him hurt so much.

Mentally apologizing, I clamped my hands around the wound, the warm, sticky, thick blood making me want to vomit. Peter should _not_ be bleeding. Peter shouldn’t even be _here_.

My guilt increased ten-fold when the kid groaned in what had to be absolute agony, his hands trying weakly to push mine away. His normal strength had diminished to next to nothing, and that worried me beyond belief. How much blood could he lose before his healing factor gave out? “I know, kid, I know, but I need to stop the bleeding.”

I felt tears prick my eyes, and immediately wanted to punch myself. _Tony effing Stark, you are not about to cry. This kid is your responsibility, and you’re going to help him instead of breaking down, dammit_.

“Stay with me,” I choked, then cleared my throat in an effort to get my emotions under control so I could save his life. “Guys, where are we on Thanos?! Peter needs medical attention, like, _yesterday_.”

“He’s dodging, but he seems to be moving towards you and Peter gradually,” Vision said tightly. All things considered, Vision shouldn’t be here either. For all intents and purposes, he was one-hundred percent human after Thanos ripped the Infinity Stone out of his head. However, surprisingly, he turned out to be one hell of a shot and was backing up Nat and Clint with long distance attacks. “I suggest you take Peter and move to safety.”

Yeah. That wasn’t happening. Not with half the kid’s blood on the field and his side shredded. “I can’t move him,” I said, hearing desperation leak into my voice at the hopelessness I felt. I couldn’t lose this kid. “He’ll bleed out if I do.”

“T-Tony…” I almost missed the weak voice. My head snapped to Peter’s face as he continued, “I th-think—” Peter paused, gagged weakly, and coughed harshly, blood spilling from his lips and down his cheek and chin. His face screwed up in pain as his side was jostled with the cough.

My heart dropped into my stomach. No. No, no. Not this kid. Anyone but this kid.

“Oh, shit,” I muttered almost reflexively. “Guys, he needs help _now_!” I bit into the com. I needed to get Peter somewhere, _anywhere_ , they could save his life.

“We can’t—oh, dammit.” Scott said. He was on Thanos’ shoulder, shrunk and searching for a weakness. I turned to see what Scott had meant and heard the coms fade to static.

Oh, no.

Thanos was mad. And barreling straight for me and Peter.

Despite my overwhelming desire to stay with Peter, I knew the only chance I stood was in the suit. I jumped up, ready to sprint to the suit in sentry mode just a few feet away, but Thanos’ huge hand swept out an impressive arc and crashed into my chest, flinging me through the air and into a tree.

I barely felt the collision—either of them—before my foggy mind decided to go dark.

I couldn’t have been out of it for more than a few minutes, and even then, I still had vague awareness. I felt blood dripping from my forehead. I probably had a couple broken ribs, too, from Eggplant’s oversized paw. There was a booming, disgusting voice in the background, and what sounded like vehement protests from the other Avengers. _Peter,_ I thought desperately, rolling over with a moan.

“Tony,” a voice said. _Rhodey_. I cracked my eyes open to see War Machine leaning over me, his faceplate up, his expression worried. “Tony, get up. Thanos has Peter.”

My foggy mind cleared so fast I got metaphorical whiplash.

I got up as fast as I humanly could with my ribs feeling broken, leaning on Rhodey, looking back to see a smoking Quinjet, the throng of Avengers facing off with Thanos, and Peter—

Oh, God. Not Peter. Anyone but Peter.

Peter was Thanos’ human shield. His hand wrapped tight around Peter’s neck, the kid clutching the giant fingers and gasping weakly. His face was in agony.

He shouldn’t even be here.

Thanos was monologuing. Then he turned Peter to face him, baring his teeth in a sadistic grin, saying “You know, fun isn’t something one considers when balancing the universe, but this…this does put a smile on my face.”

Enough.

“You sick bastard,” I shouted. Well. I tried to shout. My deflated lungs were still out of whack. I kept going anyways, torn between looking at Peter’s broken form in Thanos’ hand and Thanos’ twisted sneer at my words. “You son of a bitch. Using kids as shields? Fight like a man, you coward.”

Thanos snarled, his lip curling, his hand constricting around Peter. Peter’s eyes clouded in agony and a quiet noise escaped his lips, but nothing more.

I needed Peter out of that thing’s hand _now_. I _needed it_ with every fiber of my being. I needed to see him smiling at one of Clint’s pranks. I needed to see him excited over my new tech or fangirling over some Star Wars rerun. I needed to see him sneaking a pastry out from under May’s nose and winking at me across the room. I needed to see him happy. I needed to see him not covered in blood and being strangled by an alien.

God, was this was a parent felt like when their child was in danger?

Screw the arc reactor. _This_ was why I had heart problems.

“You’d know, wouldn’t you, Iron Man?” Thanos sneered, shaking Peter violently. My heart plummeted at the small, broken sound that fell from Peter’s lips. “You did bring him. You’re using children, too.”

I’d almost prefer him knocking me into a tree again to those words. Because God, they tore me apart.

Peter shouldn’t be here. He should be at home in bed, studying, or messing around with his web-shooters, or giving his Aunt May trouble, or messing around with his friends, Ned and MJ.

I should not have brought a child— _my damn kid_ —to a warzone.

Momentarily, the guilt of what I’d done crippled me. My knees went weak. Rhodey’s arm tightened around my shoulders, keeping me upright, but that was it. It was different, bringing him to Germany. In Germany, both sides were heroes. They’d made mistakes, but both sides were the good guys who would never intentionally harm a good guy.

Thanos was the Mad Titan. He took pleasure in injuring, in killing.

How could I have ever brought Peter anywhere _near_ him? How could I have risked him like that? Dammit, I really was a self-centered bastard, wasn’t I?

Never again. I was never letting Peter anywhere near villains _ever again_.

Yeah. He’d take that well.

The Avengers and the Guardians were looking for openings, but there were none. They were shouting, yelling obscenities at Thanos, and I realized just then how much everybody here loved this kid. How much they wanted to protect this kid.

I doubted all of their emotions combined were equivalent to the panic I was feeling now at not having Peter safe by my side.

I looked at the kid, still dangling in Thanos’ grip, gasping. His eyes…I knew that expression. That was the face he made when he was trying to solve a really, really complex equation. It was followed by wide eyes filled with understanding, and then…then sorrow. Loss. Grief. Fear.

Acceptance.

 _No_.

That was the face I’d made going into the wormhole.

Peter should not be wearing that face.

My eyes flicked from his face to the Infinity Stones, where his gaze rested. Everything clicked in one absolute, horrifying second, and I just had time to lock eyes with him. He whispered my name. Not Mr. Stark. No, he whispered Tony, and I couldn’t even _hear_ him, but I could read his lips, and I could see his eyes, and they were filled with love and admiration and that damn hero-worship that I didn’t deserve, and…and they looked at me like I would’ve looked at my dad, if he’d been there more often.

“Peter, don’t!” I screamed desperately, the short sounds tearing my throat raw with my vigor. I surged forward, but Rhodey caught me around the waist before I could charge straight at Thanos. I’d kill him with my bare hands, if I had to. I didn’t care how thick his skin was or how many shiny rocks he had.

I was too late.

Peter grabbed the Soul Stone, and the Mind Stone, and yanked them out of the Infinity Gauntlet, and my God, his screams were going to haunt me every single day for the rest of my life. I would never forget them.

Peter’s screams were drowned out, however, by the Mad Titan’s.

It was almost like a clear barrier of energy whooshed out from him, hitting all of us before dissipating, and God, it was probably the creepiest thing I’ve ever felt. It was like the energy of the universe going straight through you, like Casper the Friendly Ghost joyriding a metaphysical truck through my insides. Thanos dropped Peter, and the poor kid landed on the ground with a sickening thump that made me cringe.

“You _insects_ will not defeat me!” Thanos boomed, clenching his fists and getting ready to charge us. “I _refuse_ —”

Quill and Gamora cut him off with a cannon blast to the face, and if I hadn’t liked them before, God, I _loved_ them now. They could tear down my Tower, for all I cared.

Thanos toppled like a domino, landing on his back and staying down for a few seconds. He was down.

He was _down_.

Ignoring the ache in my _everywhere_ , I ran to Peter. Thor flew past me with a battle cry that probably made Odin jealous and plow his godly fist right through Thanos’ sternum. I heard the crunch. It was fairly graphic.

None of it mattered, because I couldn’t see Peter.

There was almost a tornado of energy surrounding the kid. It was like a cyclone of an electromagnetic field. I thrust my hand into the swirling mass, testing to see if I could get to Peter, but the force was so strong it tore into my hand. I yelled both in pain and frustration. I was not gonna be kept from my kid by a _strong f***ing breeze_.

I got ready to charge in, cradling my hand against my chest, but Rhodey grabbed my shoulder. Oh, Sugarplum and I were going to have a _talk_ about him keeping me from Peter. “Tony, you can’t! It’ll tear you apart if you’re in there too long!”

“Rhodey, let me the hell go!” I yelled, but I was no match for the War Machine armor. I tried a different approach. The kid listened to me, right? Most of the time, at least. “Peter, _please_ , let go!” I heard the desperation leaking into my voice, but didn’t bother trying to control it. I knew I’d never be able to.

“Vis—” I heard Peter’s breathy, agony-filled voice gasp. I strained to hear over the wind. “Vision—”

“Wha—did he say Vision?” Bucky yelled over the drone of the wind. I whipped my head around to look at Vision’s _very_ human form, looking apprehensive and surprised at Peter’s call for him. “Vision, get in there!”

Vision surged forward, and I could only watch as he launched himself into the swirling mass, hidden from view once he got through. He screamed in pain as the vortex tore into him, and Wanda made a small sound in the back of her throat. My heartbeat thudded in my ears as I waited anxiously.

Suddenly, Vision’s scream pierced the wall of noise and energy, shaking all of us. Wanda cried out and tried to go through to him, but Steve held her back. “Vis!” She called, red light enveloping her hands, her scarlet irises terrified.

Then, as quickly as it had sprung up, the vortex dissipated. I saw Vision, the Mind Stone safely encased in his forehead, and the Soul Stone on the ground by Peter’s limp, burned hand, and Peter—

I almost threw up at the sight.

I jerked away from Rhodey and dropped to my knees beside him, followed quickly by everyone else. Hulk shrank at an alarming rate and Bruce fell to his knees, dazed. Steve shoved some pants at him and said, “Peter needs you, Bruce, there’s no time to rest.”

Bruce’s eyes cleared immediately. He yanked on the pants and rushed over.

The others had surrounded Peter, yelling across his limp body at each other to stabilize his head, don’t move his spine, don’t touch his collarbone, make sure his airway isn’t compromised, and other medical stuff I didn’t have the presence of mind to follow. The only thing I could focus on was Peter’s pale face.

I grabbed his limp hand, ignoring the flurry of activity around me, and held on for dear life, ignoring the burns there. The skin was shriveled and still hot, but I had to anchor him, I had to feel him, to know he was here, next to me, and no longer in the grip of that damn plum.

Peter’s eyes were glazed and unfocused, staring right past us up at the sky. His stuttering chest began to slow, and my stomach coiled in terror.

“Peter?” I asked, my voice shaking. Someone had gotten a gurney. Steve and Sam were gently lifting him onto it, but I never let go of his hand. I was never letting go again. “Peter! Peter, please, kid, stay with me!”

His eyes slipped closed slowly, his lax fingers becoming completely limp. I swear to God, my heart stopped. I stopped breathing. My blood stopped flowing. Everything, every single thing in the universe, stopped when those brown eyes I’d come to love so much disappeared.

No. No, I would absolutely _not_ accept this.

Everything slipped out.

“Peter, I can’t…” My voice shook and wobbled and was weak, and usually with so many people around, I’d never let myself be this vulnerable. But dammit, this was my child, and nothing else mattered. “I can’t lose you, kid, _please_.”

On the last word, my voice broke into a sob. I couldn’t fathom the thought of life without him. Of life without his stupid, wonderful comments, or his whimsical, childish, beautiful outlook on life.

“His vitals are dropping,” Bruce said, voice laced with frantic desperation. My stomach hollowed out, the world dropping out from underneath me. I look frantically at Peter’s glazed eyes, staring past me at something over my left shoulder, somewhere in the sky. His empty look was so, so far away. So far from me.

“No, Peter, _no_. Look at _me_ , kid, _please_.” Screw it. It was all coming out. I wasn’t about to let him slip through my fingers. Pride be damned. Pride be damned straight to the ninth circle of hell and into Satan’s hands if it meant doing anything to save him. “Peter, I love you, kid, please don’t leave me. You’re—you’re my kid, Peter, _my_ kid, and I never spent enough time with you. I’ll take you wherever you want. We can—we can fix your suit, together. I—I’ll take you to get your first car, maybe—maybe something run down, and we can fix it together. You, you mentioned that once, that you’d like that, right?” The words were tumbling out, now, tears streaming down my face as I begged and pleaded to God, to Odin, to whoever was listening to _save my kid_. “We can do whatever the hell you want, kid, just—just _please_ …”

The words wouldn’t come anymore. All that came out instead of words were choked off sobs as I watched his pale, lax face, Bruce hustling around me. I knew I was probably a bit in the way, but no one asked me to move. The others were standing anxiously in the back of the Quinjet, Clint and Natasha flying in the front.

I couldn’t tell if his chest was moving anymore. The stuttering breaths had stopped, and with the oxygen mask covering his face, I couldn’t even feel for a breath.

“No, come on,” I whispered, my voice breaking, my head dropping, my forehead against his still chest, his hand limp in mine. “Come on. Come _on_.”

A beat of silence. The monitors were shrieking, but everything was so still. I clutched his hand and weaved my other hand into his damp hair. Was this it? Was I really going to lose him now?

Suddenly, Peter’s chest heaved.

I shot up like a cannon, tightening my hands around his so hard I was afraid I’d cut off his circulation. But I couldn’t care. Because he’d _breathed_.

And he was still breathing.

“His vitals are improving,” Bruce said, obvious shock coating his voice as he pushed something into Peter’s IV. “Tony, keep talking to him, it’s working!”

“Oh, my God, Peter,” I breathed, feeling my lungs deflate in utter relief. I felt sixty thousand hairs go gray simultaneously, and twenty years of my life packed its bags and hustled away, but it was worth it, because _Peter was alive_.

I didn’t let go of Peter’s hand for the next sixteen hours.

…

Five weeks.

It was five weeks before my kid woke up.

And spending them with an irate May Parker, no matter how unfairly attractive she was, was _hell_.

The steady beep of the monitor was as annoying as it was reassuring. After weeks of no movement, it seemed almost mocking.

Like, _hey, your kid’s alive, but guess what, he’s comatose! Suck on that, Stark!_

He’d been improving lately. Bruce had been able to take his breathing tube out, and he’d been switched from a feeding tube to IV nutrients. Sometimes his fingers would twitch, or his eyes would flutter a bit, but they never opened, and he never woke.

It was one cold, rainy day in March, and May and I were having our semi-weekly spat.

“You heard Bruce,” I said, leaning against the door, scowling. I hadn’t slept well in months, but it’d been worse since I’d been worrying so much over Peter. As such, my patience was in short supply. “You have time. A shower and some real food would do everyone a lot of good, May.”

May turned her angry eyes on me, holding Peter’s limp hand in her own. “I’m not leaving him. Not for a second. Who are you to tell me to leave my baby? How could you—how could you even let his _happen_ , Stark? I _trusted_ you with him, and now…now he’s—”

That wasn’t fair.

“I would _never_ hurt him,” I growled, taking a step forward. “You know that. I tried to save him. I did everything I could. You have to know I _never_ meant for this to happen! May, listen to me when I say I would _much_ rather be lying in the bed than him, and don’t you _dare_ —”

“ _Hey!_ ” Bruce said, sounding pissed off. I whirled, on high alert. “If you’re going to yell, take it outside. You’re disturbing Peter.”

“Well, if Stark would stop trying to order me around like one of his _employees_ —”

“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t _pass out_ from hunger, but no, that makes me the bad guy, I forgot—”

“Don’t you dare, Stark, I’m not in the mood—”

“What a coincidence, May, neither am I!”

“Both of you, _quiet_ ,” Bruce hissed, sounding angry. I shut my mouth immediately, turning to him, an expression of surprise and approval on my face. Brucie needed to let some emotions out once in a while. “You’re disturbing my patient, and if both of you don’t _shut up_ , I’ll have you removed from this room until you’re calm. I don’t care _who_ you are.”

Bruce shout-whispered the whole thing. Absently, I was reluctantly impressed with how much breath support that must have taken. The green receded from his eyes after a few seconds of silence, and Bruce inhaled and exhaled slowly.

I folded my arms and exhaled slowly, counting to five. “I’m sorry, May.”

“We are continuing this later,” May said with a piercing look that would have incinerated me if I wasn’t so used to Pepper’s scoldings. They’d be good friends. God, Peter and I wouldn’t stand a chance. “I just…Dr. Banner, he’s been asleep for weeks. When if he going to come around?”

 _The million-dollar question_ , I thought with a wry smile, looking at my kid’s pale, lax face. His brown curls, still bouncy as ever, fell over his forehead. My brow furrowed. The kid needed a haircut.

“Any day now,” Bruce replied with a smile in May’s direction, sounding entirely confident. “His vitals are fine, May, his body just needs time to rest. I know it’s scary to watch, but I promise, he _is_ recovering.”

 _Bullshit_ , I thought, feeling exhaustion seep into every bone in my body. _You have no idea how scary this is_.

“I can have specialists flown in at any time,” I threw in my two cents, a bit tentatively. I didn’t want to disrupt May Parker’s temper again. I already had a migraine.

Luckily, Bruce spared me further pain and redirected May’s attention. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. You may want to start researching some good physical therapists, though.”

And I was about to respond, to tell May that Peter would have the best therapists money could buy, no matter how much it cost, when May said words that lifted my heart straight to Asgard.

“Oh, my God,” her shaky voice breathed, jolting my senses into alertness. “Peter? Honey, can you hear me?”

"What? What’s wrong?” I thought, rushing to Peter’s side, fearing the worst. I seized his other hand, looking desperately for any sign of movement.

"He moved, just now,” May exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat, her eyes more alive than they’d been in weeks. “I swear, he did.”

Bruce started checking all the monitors, looking for any sign of waking.

“Peter?” I asked, noticing how desperate I sounded, not really caring. I put my free hand on his head, his hair soft beneath my touch. “Kiddo, wake up. We’re right here, you can do it.”

I _’ll do anything. Anything to see those brown eyes again. Those beautiful, kind brown eyes I’ve come to love so much_.

“Keep talking to him,” Bruce said, examining one of the monitors more carefully than the rest, an excited smile spreading over his face. “His brain waves are becoming more active.”

And then, his eyes scrunched up in _the_ most _adorable_ way, and I finally got a glimpse of those brown eyes I thought I might never see again.

Good God, I sounded like a Hallmark card.

Was this what parenthood did to you?

With a jolt, Peter shut his eyes, a small whimper worming its way out of his throat. The kid hadn’t been awake in weeks; it was probably a shock to see so many fluorescents everywhere. “FRIDAY, lights.”

The room dimmed to just a bare illumination, and Peter opened his eyes.

The feeling of joy and relief that filled me was…absolutely indescribable. May sobbed across from me. Though I’d never admit it, I felt tears fill my own eyes as my face split into a grin, probably the biggest grin I’d ever worn.

My kid was alive.

My kid was okay.

“Peter, how long have you been awake?” Bruce asked, startling me slightly. I’d forgotten he was here. He was like a _church mouse_ sometimes.

“Mm…” Peter started, blinking slowly. I held his hand just a little tighter, tensing when his eyes closed, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Tony…in trouble, May mad…Bruce…badass…”

One of the many reasons I was raising the kid’s allowance.

I couldn’t contain a short laugh, covering my mouth with my free hand and trying desperately to keep the hysterics under control, because that was one of the most Peter things he could have said.

Bruce grinned good-naturedly and said, “Glad you think so, Peter. I’ll get the others.”

I kind of wanted him all to myself for a little while—and May, of course—but I knew that the others had been worried sick over the past few weeks.

“You scared me to death,” May said tearfully, touching her forehead to Peter’s. “You gave me a heart attack.” Oh, hey, funny, me too. Several, in fact. “I almost lost you.”

If only she knew.

Peter opened his mouth like he was going to respond, but he only managed a small sound before it was cut off. The look of discomfort on Peter’s face was enough of a sign that something was wrong.

The kid was probably thirsty. He hadn’t drunk anything in weeks, after all. The IV had given him nutrients and fluids, but there was only so much those could do.

I grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table and gently raised his head a couple inches off the pillow to make swallowing easier, his half-lidded eyes blinking slowly. As soon as the water touched his lips, the kid tried to swallow it all at once. I eased the cup away every so often, afraid he’d inhale it. “Slow, or you’ll choke,” I said quietly.

When he’d drained the glass, I set it back on the table and eased his head back onto the pillow, licking his lips as he took deep breaths, his eyes flicking to his aunt’s face. “Sorry, May,” he managed, but his voice was rough.

I just wanted to snap my fingers and have him jumping around the room like a damn kangaroo.

May gave him a gentle smile and said, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Just rest.”

Peter relaxed into the bed. Just then, the door flew open, and all of the Avengers and the Guardians trickled in, filling the infirmary. Out of instinct, pure instinct, because I trusted all these people dammit, I moved closer to Peter’s bed. Out of _instinct_.

Parents are _weird_.

Peter gave them all a small smile that made my heart soar with pride and relief.

“Look who decided to wake up!” Clint screamed at the top of his freaking lungs, plopping down on the edge of the bed and patting Peter’s leg. I flinched, afraid he’d hurt something, but he wasn’t even _hurt_ on his legs.

I could feel my hairs graying, one piece at a time.

“How you feeling, kid?” Clint continued.

“Roadkill,” Peter croaked, smiling wanly. Despite myself, I huffed a little laugh.

“Well, you got the shit beat out of you, kid, that’s for sure,” Wilson said.

In the most absurdly hypocritical moment of my entire life, I wanted to tell Sam Wilson to watch his mouth in front of my kid.

And in a rare moment of brain-mouth communication, I managed to hold back the statement, because good God, I’d never hear the end of it if I told someone to _watch their language_.

Parenthood. _Parenthood_.

I vowed to never question May Parker again.

“But you saved the world, singlehandedly, so there’s that,” Sam finished, but I’d barely heard him in the midst of my epiphany.

“Mm…I did?” Peter asked, and his eyes slipped closed, reflecting his exhaustion. I knew he probably enjoyed seeing everyone, but he really needed rest. “Saving the world sucks.”

Everyone, including May Parker, laughed at that. Cause hell, it was true, wasn’t it?

Pete’s eyes flicked open again, landing on my face. I gave him a softer smile. The one I reserved solely for Pepper. Well, Peter and Pepper, now.

He returned the smile and asked, breathing heavily, “C-can we…fix up that car?”

I heard the chatter in the room hush, and my eyes widened as a little alarm in the back of my head blared _Abort! Abort! Emotions imminent! Abort!_

Clearing my throat, forcing myself to respond, I said, “Kid, you…you heard that?” Cause while I didn’t regret a word of it, I still didn’t want a whole room of people knowing my deepest feelings and bearing my soul or whatever.

“Mmhm,” Peter said, his voice sounding like nails across sandpaper. My throat ached in sympathy. “S’the reason I came back.”

Um. I hadn’t expected that.

I glanced at the others spread around the room, probably looking as lost as I felt. Steve and I locked eyes, his baffled expression mirroring my confusion. I didn’t find any help there, though, so I asked, “Came back from where?”

I was a little worried about how tired he was starting to sound, but I kind of wanted to know where in the hell he’d gone while on death’s door in the Wakandan wilderness.

“There was a super bright light,” he rasped, licking his lips before blinking again, eyes fading out of focus for a second. The poor kid was probably exhausted. Nevertheless, he soldiered on, continuing, “It was white, and it…didn’t hurt.” Well, thank God for small miracles. “Then you started shouting at me. You said…we could fix a car. And my suit. And you asked me not to leave…”

I felt tears pricking my eyes at just the memory of the helplessness I felt during then.

“…and so I turned around…and ran back.” He was panting, now. I almost reached for the oxygen mask on hand, but he opened his mouth to say something else. “Love you too…by the way.”

Peter had never said that to me.

I know I’d told him I loved him, and I’d meant it, but…I have to say, decades of low confidence and a bad track record with personal relationships had made me doubtful that he’d really love me. I knew he liked me, I knew he saw me as a…mentor, at least, but…

My heart soared. Even more than when Pepper had told me she’d marry me.

And I realized, in a split second, that I would do anything in the world to keep this kid safe.

I smiled, grabbing his hand and pushing a couple wayward curls back from his forehead. “Love you, kiddo.” Blinking, I exhaled another huff of relief that he was awake and talking and alive and _safe_. “Get some rest, Pete. We’ll fix up any car you want.”

“Kay,” he breathed, his eyes falling closed, his face relaxing.

He looked so peaceful.

And I decided then and there, as a father (that was maybe the scariest thought I’d ever had), that I’d kill every Flying Purple People Eater in the world to keep it that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Please leave a comment / Kudos if you enjoyed!


End file.
